


Cross Purposes

by graceandfire



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceandfire/pseuds/graceandfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones loses a bet and has to wear a dress.  </p><p>Originally meant to be plot what plot sexy-times but...Bones didn't want to wear the darn dress!  So...uhm, some plot, with eventual sexy-times.</p><p>************************</p><p>“I *#(^$ <i>hate</i> you.”</p><p>“A bet’s a bet, Bones.” </p><p>Leonard isn’t looking at Jim but he can still <i>hear</i> the smirk in the kid’s voice.</p><p>Leonard isn’t looking at Jim because Leonard’s staring at the outfit laid across Jim’s bed.</p><p>At the <i>dress</i> laid across Jim’s bed.</p><p>It looks short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross Purposes

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the speedy and always awesome beta by [Savoytruffle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Savoytruffle/pseuds/Savoytruffle)!

“I fuckin’ _hate_ you.”

“A bet’s a bet, Bones.”

Leonard isn’t looking at Jim but he can still _hear_ the damn smirk in the kid’s voice. 

Leonard isn’t looking at Jim because Leonard’s staring at the outfit laid across Jim’s bed.

At the _dress_ laid across Jim’s bed.

It looks short.

“Okay, look, what if instead of the dress thing I—?”

“Forget it.  No swaps.”

“But…”

“Put it on or be a weaseling weasel, Bones.”

Leonard grabs the dress and stomps off to the bathroom. 

“I fuckin’ _hate_ you.”

 ************************************************************************ 

They’re in the hotel bathroom, wrap around mirrors reflecting Leonard’s outfit back at him no matter where the hell he looks.

“This is ridiculous.  I _look_ ridiculous.”  He reaches down to tug at the hem that’s way too damn high, the filmy green material riding up, exposing his newly hairless legs from just below the crotch down to where his feet are encased in matching green pumps.  The sleeveless top, with the deep V neckline and plunging back, isn’t doing a hell of a lot in the way of concealment either.

Jim rolls his eyes.  “Okay, one, you look _hot_ is what you look.  Two, and I say this with love, Bones, stop whining.”  He reaches into a small black bag and starts pulling out different pots and brushes.  “Now close your eyes and hold still.”

Leonard closes his eyes and feels the first stroke of a cool brush across his cheek.

He fuckin’ _hates_ Jim.

 ************************************************************************

 

Leonard feels like everyone in the damn hotel is watching them as they walk through the lobby.  A flush rises in his cheeks as he catches one woman’s stare.  He looks away from the smile she offers.  It’s probably a smile of _pity_ for the mentally deficient _idiot_ who’s walking around looking like a…

“Smile, Bones,” Jim murmurs, leaning in.  “The scowl really doesn’t go with the makeup.”

Leonard exercises restraint and doesn’t punch Jim.

They reach the lobby exit and step out onto the street.  Though night has fallen, the lights of Tarnia city still provide plenty of illumination for the gawkers as they start up the road. 

At least Jim’s had mercy enough to get them beamed over to a different city from where the rest of the crew’s spending shore leave.  The _last_ thing he needs is someone he knows seeing him in this get up.  He’d never live it down. 

And there are plenty of other damn people out enjoying the night to gawk at him.  It’s not his imagination that he’s getting looks from passersby. 

A trio of human males walks by and one of them turns to give a low whistle of appreciation.

Leonard hunches his shoulders and grits his teeth.

“Bones, why is this bothering you so much?”

Leonard turns to look at Jim with disbelief.  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jim shakes his head, face thoughtful.  “No, seriously.  It’s not like wearing a dress is a big deal.  C’mon, fleet regulation permits any crew member to elect to wear either the pants or the dress uniform for duty shifts.”

“And just how many human males actually pick the dress?” Leonard growls back.

Jim shrugs.  “Yeah, fine, it’s not the fashion.  It’s cool for men to be manly and for women to embrace being feminine with the short skirts and all, which,” he pauses and smiles in pure appreciation, “I _fully_ support.”

“Then you can damn well understand why I…”

“No, I don’t,” Jim interrupts, voice stubborn.  “When we were on Entari VII and we had to wear those ceremonial gauze things that were pretty much _transparent_ you weren’t as bothered as you are right now.”

"That was different,” Leonard mutters.

“Why?”

Dammit, he doesn’t _know_ why, Leonard thinks, the lack of clarity just making him angrier.  Everything Jim’s saying is true.  There’s nothing wrong with wearing a dress and even though it hasn’t been the style for a long time, he’s seen men wearing dresses before and even appreciated the view in a few cases. 

So, why does he feel so…exposed?  So damn off-balance?

He shakes his head.  “Look, Jim, I’m fulfilling the terms of the damn bet, okay?  I let you dress me up.  I used a depilatory on my legs, which is gonna fucking _itch_ like hell when it grows back in, by the way.  _And_ I let you slap three inches of makeup on my face.  So can we just go to this club, have a fucking dance and a fucking drink so that I can go back to the hotel and forget this fucking night ever _happened_?” 

He knows his anger’s an overreaction but dammit he _is_ angry that Jim’s putting him through this as some fucking juvenile _joke_.

“But, Bones…”

“Goddammit, Jim, _drop_ it.”

“Okay.”  The subdued response has Leonard turning to look at him in surprise, but Jim’s eyes are on their surroundings, face neutral.

A pang of guilt tries to hit him but Leonard ruthlessly ignores it because he is _not_ the one who should be feeling guilty here.  He is _not_ the one who decided to make his best friend go out in public in a dress.  A fucking _short_ dress.

The cool evening air brushes against his skin like it’s been doing since they exited the hotel, tickling against his bare legs, and his dick twitches in response.  He feels over-sensitized.  Between the breeze on his skin, the silky fabric of the dress sliding over him, and Jim walking next to him radiating body heat, he feels exposed in more ways than one, like his nerves are closer to the surface than usual, his world off kilter.  Of course maybe _that’s_ the damn heels… 

As if his body is rebelling at the thought, Leonard stumbles.  Jim’s instantly there, holding his arm in support, and it’s instinct that has Leonard jerking away from him, the violence of the motion sending him staggering back.

In a second Jim’s already smoothed over the hurt that Leonard can try to pretend hadn’t just flashed across his face.

They stare at each other for a moment before Jim nods.

“Right, bet’s over.”

Leonard frowns.  “What?”

“You heard me, bet’s over.  You fulfilled the terms.”

He really, really wants to take the out, but… “No, I didn’t, the terms included the night club and the…”

Jim shakes his head.  “Fuck it, Bones.  We’re done.  Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“I…” Desire wars with his sense of fair play.  Now that Jim’s actually _given_ him the out, it somehow makes it easier for Leonard to contemplate making it through the rest of the night.  “Look, Jim, I said I would and I goddamn wi—”

“You know what?” Jim cuts him off. “Do what you like, but I’ve had enough.” And without another word he turns and walks away from Leonard, heading back the way they’d come.

Leonard stares after Jim for a second and then huffs an annoyed “dammit” before trying to catch up with him.  It isn’t easy since Jim’s moving fast and Leonard’s in these damn heels.

By the time he reaches the hotel, Jim’s long gone.  Leonard heads up to their room, not really sure if Jim’ll be there, so any remaining anger gives way to relief when he finds Jim sitting on the bed, a tumbler of their favorite scotch in hand, bottle sitting on the nightstand.

They look at each other for a quiet moment.

“I’m sorry, Bones, I didn’t…”

“Hell, kid, I’m sorry that I…”

They both pause again.

Jim holds up a hand as Leonard opens his mouth.  “Look, Bones, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have made you do this.  I thought it would be…”

“What?” Leonard asks, brows furrowing.  Because he’s getting the feeling that this night hasn’t had anything to do with humiliating him.  But if it wasn’t about giving him a hard time then _what_?

“Fun.” Jim looks up at him and Leonard can see irritation and apology and frustration jumbling together.

Leonard just stares at him.  “Kid, why n’ the hell would you…?”

Jim spreads his arms wide and Leonard thinks maybe Jim’s trying to indicate the whole universe because that’s how the kid’s thinking goes.  “Because you’ve been working too hard and you’re stressed out and I thought this would be a good release for you.  Because it’s _fun_ to let go, Bones.  To change your parameters.”  Frustration is now the clear winner in Jim’s brilliant eyes.  “When I’ve dressed fem it’s been _fun._   To be looked at in a different way.  To be appreciated in a different way.  To be appreciated for different qualities.”

He looks up at Bones, and sighs.  “I just…wanted you to experience some of that.  I figured, sure, you might have a little hang up about it at first, but once you were in full fem you’d really enjoy it.”  He offers Leonard a lopsided smile.  “My bad.”

With a grunt Leonard drops down next to Jim on the bed.  “Look, Jim, I’m an asshole.  You’ve known me too long not to know this.”

The snort is enough to tell him his own side of the apology has been accepted. 

“I just…” He doesn’t know what to say because he still doesn’t know why this whole thing has bothered him so much.  “I just…”

“Don’t like to be noticed.”  Jim reaches out and pours a shot into a second glass, handing it off to Leonard.  “I should have known.  I should have.”

Leonard blinks.  “That’s not true, kid.  I’m not exactly modest…”

“About your brain, yeah.” Jim smirks at him.  “Recognize you for inventing a cure to Tamsin’s disease and you’re just fucking fine with being in the spotlight.”  Jim puts his glass down on the nightstand and turns to him, eyes suddenly full of something entirely different than apology.  “But highlight how gorgeous you are?” 

Jim’s gaze skims down Leonard who suddenly remembers with a jolt what he’s wearing.

“Put you in an outfit that shows off your physical assets?”  Jim’s hand reaches out to rest on Leonard’s thigh, right below the hem line of the dress, the contact burning into his skin. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking _hot_ you look in that dress with your legs that go fucking forever and those _shoes_ and just… _fuck,_ Bones.”

And, given the look of sheer male appreciation in Jim’s eyes, Leonard is starting to think that maybe this getup has its high points. 

“Well why don’t you keep talkin’?” he drawls, tipping his glass up to swallow down the rest of his scotch in one sweet burn before dropping it to the side where it rolls off the bed and down onto the carpet with a quiet thump. 

Jim has never needed much in the way of encouragement. 

He starts crawling up Leonard, pushing him down onto the bed, eyes gleaming with _want_. Hands reach under Leonard’s dress, skimming against his dick, fingers massaging his balls and, as Leonard shudders under the onslaught, he decides easy access is _definitely_ one of those high points.

“ _Fuck_ , Jim,” he groans, legs splaying wide in invitation.

“Fuck, _yeah_ , Bones.  Do you have any idea what you did to me tonight with that short skirt swishing around your legs, knowing what was right there?  That I just had to reach under and I could do…this?”

Bones bucks up with a gasp.

“Seeing every head turned to you tonight?  Watching you?  Wanting to be doing what I’m doing right now?”  And then Jim’s mouth is engulfing Leonard’s dick and brain function just sort of melts away under the onslaught of that filthy, talented godgod _GOD_ damn _talented_ tongue. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Bones,” Jim murmurs around Leonard’s dick before he starts suctioning, and Leonard bucks and heaves up into that mouth, that perfect, perfect, _perfect_ mouth.

Jim pulls off, ignoring Leonard’s groan of protest.  “I could spend the rest of my life doing this.”  And he leans back down, tongue swirling around the tip of Leonard’s dick, over and over and over again until Leonard can only gasp and swear.

“Jim. Jim, _please_ …” And as if that’s the cue, Jim swallows him down and Leonard’s surrounded by heat and moisture and pressure and… fuck, fuckfuck _fuck, “Fuck!_ ” He bucks and swears and comes and comes.

What may be an eon later, when he feels like he finally, maybe can move again, Leonard looks up at Jim.  And finally sees the admiration and lust and pure male appreciation.

“You, Leonard H. McCoy, are fucking _beautiful_ ,” Jim says. 

Leonard reaches down and palms Jim, smiling at the harsh intake of breath.  With a quick flip that reverses their positions he straddles Jim, feeling everything settle, in balance and right with the world.

“So, you might be on to something after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, because Bones had such a hard time with this bet, in order to make this fic work, I had to ponder awhile why/if it would even be a big deal in their time. And, then, why it _wasn't_ common place for men to wear dresses. My answer to the latter? Fashion. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
